


cherry blossoms in your hair and cotton candy on my tongue

by PolarityPrison



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Daddy Kink, Drama & Romance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Madara is a baller, Madasaku - Freeform, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sakura is a college student, Sasuke is a little bitch, Smut, Stalking, ddlg elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29878164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarityPrison/pseuds/PolarityPrison
Summary: She was incredulous. “Are you—are you fondling my hair?”“Fondle? No.” He let her hair go, strand by strand of pink falling out of his grip. “If I fondle you, you’d know.”
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Madara, Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura & Uchiha Shisui, Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Madara, Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Shisui
Comments: 23
Kudos: 100





	1. filled your cup until it overflowed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darlington](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlington/gifts).



> happy late birthday darlington have some noncon/dubcon madasaku that's not nearly as good as your own work

It was a mistake to answer the door.

At the insistent sound of the doorbell three times in a row, Sakura had pelted through the house towards the front door, yanking it open with a force that sent her hair fluttering around her face, ready to launch into whispered invectives at anyone coming by so early and unexpectedly.

All her thoughts were on the young man in the other room; the one she'd liked for the better part of two years of undergrad. 

They'd come home from the pub in the early hours of the morning, Sakura doing the steering on the motorcycle rather than Sasuke. It amused her to know that the normally stoic-faced Sasuke was prone to oversharing once he'd had a few drinks under his belt. She’d found out so much about him in the short time they’d had yesterday than in the past two years of college together. 

But now some cretin was going to wake him up before he was ready.

Sakura opened her mouth…

… and snapped it shut again at the sight of the giant standing before her.

She didn't know who she'd expected. Maybe a neighbor who'd come by to say that the motorcycle was blocking their entrance. Someone who wanted to complain about the late-night ruckus of Sakura helping Sasuke into the house. Things that could surely wait until it was after nine o'clock in the morning.

It wasn't a neighbor.

That much Sakura was absolutely certain. No neighbor of hers was well over six feet tall with the shoulders of a wrestler and hair tied back into a ponytail. No one around here had that granite profile as though hewn from sheer rock.

Yet despite his build, something in the man's eyes made her think he was more than just a bodybuilder. Not this man who wore a suit as casually as the faint hum of power that emanated from him.

No one who lived around here wore a _suit_ on the weekends like this man was doing, and _nobody_ owned that gleaming Benz that he'd somehow managed to squeeze into the narrow alley.

She stared uncertainly up at the stranger and then down the empty street behind him. Was he lost? Why her door?

His dark eyes roved over her hair and face before sweeping down her body in a perusal so thorough she flushed and shrank back. She wasn't dressed for a fashion show so early in the morning on a weekend after a night out. "Is Sasuke Uchiha here?" he asked finally.

Growled, really. His voice was so raspy and low it seemed to send vibrations through her chest. 

When she didn't answer, he leaned slightly forward, and it wasn't cowardly of her to take an instinctive step back, was it? She almost wanted to leap for a weapon. There was just something so innately piercing about his eyes, his mere presence and size so overtly intimidating she felt herself bristling up.

"His motorcycle is out front," the man rasped. He hadn't moved at all, but she could feel the coiled tension in his body, like that of a predator about to spring.

There was something so intense about this man that Sakura felt off balance, like there was more to his words than met the eye.

"Who's asking?" Sakura threw back at the stranger. She'd always been too sassy for her own good, and she experienced a half second of regret when something flickered in the man's expression at her rebellious response. Again that evaluating glance at her, like he was forming a picture of her in his head from her every action and coming up with something she didn't like.

"His guardian." His low voice was even, challenging, and cold; a gauntlet thrown down. 

A honking ripped through the air. His car was blocking the entire alley. Sakura peered around his broad frame to see what was happening outside, but the man didn't even turn around. He merely raised two fingers in the air and gestured lazily. 

The car moved off.

He remained on her doorstep.

"Madara Uchiha," he said. "You've heard of me?" 

She didn't bother denying it. Even if Sasuke had never complained so bitterly about his autocratic uncle who was the head of the family, she still would have known about the owner of the high-profile Uchiha group. She just hadn't expected Madara Uchiha to be like this. 

From Sasuke's description, the head of the group was despotic, overbearing, unable to listen to reason. Sakura had built up an image in her head of an older, pompous businessman with traditional beliefs, not this man standing in front of her who looked as though he’d be more at home in a different era, dressed in full armor, wielding a gunbai to decimate his enemies.

He looked too young to even be Sasuke's uncle and too hard, like a leader of a yakuza group, to be honest, down to the shrewd eyes and rock-hard physique. He didn't look soft in the least, and Sakura couldn't imagine that he even needed the bodyguard that Sasuke claimed he had. He looked like he could _be_ the bodyguard.

"I, on the other hand, have never heard of you from Sasuke," the guardian was now saying, his impossibly gravelly voice pitched even lower so that her insides felt itchy. 

His dark eyes lingered on her pink hair and then—incredibly—stopped on her chest.

She glanced down and was horrified to find that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her sleep shirt clung to her form, molding itself around her breasts. 

Sakura flushed, fighting the overwhelming urge to cover her chest from view. She was in her _home._ It was eight o'clock on a Sunday morning. What had this man expected? For her to be wearing an evening gown?

Her embarrassment turned into red-hot resentment. "He's sleeping," she said, defensively and inanely. Of course Sasuke was sleeping; he wasn't the type of guy who would hide behind any girl.

Although now that she'd seen Madara Uchiha, she wondered if that was true. Perhaps to dodge his uncle, one would be inclined to utilize any methods.

"In your bed?" Madara hadn’t moved from her doorstep. His eyes were dark and hooded and had flickered up to her pink hair again.

Sasuke's uncle disapproved of her.

The thought slammed into her. That was what the questioning was about and why he was looking over her so carefully—so intently she almost felt like she should open her mouth for him to inspect her teeth.

But what was it to him? 

The answer was a blow to her self-esteem. Because of course the leader of the Uchiha group had taken one look at this modest home, nestled tightly among the other houses, and disapproved. Add on top of that her pink hair that screamed non-traditional, and he was certain she was a bad influence on his nephew. He’d _tracked down_ Sasuke on a Sunday morning on the heels of the disagreement they’d had. He probably thought that Sasuke was dropping out of college for _her,_ when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

She was _this_ close to telling him to take a picture when there was a sound behind her. Her heart sank, and she whirled around to find Sasuke standing there, rubbing at his face with the heel of one palm. 

If only he'd stayed hidden until his uncle had left! She was sure Madara wouldn't have searched through her house for him. Pretty sure.

Okay, she wasn't sure about it at all.

She snuck a peek back at the older man, whose face had settled back into granite lines that revealed nothing. 

"The car is waiting for you, Sasuke," was all Madara said, in a low, silky voice.

The way Sasuke suddenly straightened should have been comical, yet Sakura wasn't finding this situation humorous at all. No man should be that afraid of his relative. Another wave of pure dislike overtook her.

"Wait a minute," she said, holding out an imperious hand. "He doesn't want to go with you."

Madara behaved as though she hadn't spoken. He stood sentinel before the door, silently waiting. After a moment, Sasuke jerked a nod and moved towards him.

Sakura grabbed his arm. "There must be another way," she said in a low, rushed whisper. 

Sasuke kept moving, but there was something terrible in his face—dread and resignationed. 

She couldn't just let him go like that. He looked—terrible.

She rushed after him just as he brushed past his giant of an uncle. "Wait—"

Her cry was cut off by a hand at the base of her throat.

Madara's growl was a rumble so deep, it made the air in her lungs stutter. "Don't," he said, low and deliberate. 

The hand on her chest was so large it could have wrapped around her entire neck. His fingers twitched, as though in preparation to tighten around her throat, and then he let her go, his palm sliding down her chest before stopping just short of touching her breasts.

"Women should know their place," he said softly. His dark eyes, focused on her face, never wavered. "Someone should teach you, little one."

There had never been anyone who'd dared to touch her like that before. 

In the next moment, she slashed out her arm, knocking his wrist to the side and shoved him in the abdomen with both hands, hard. It should have hurt, but he didn't even move. His stomach was like a slab of stone, and the way she’d easily flung off his wrist made her think he'd let his arm be pushed aside.

No matter; she'd been trained in judo.

She caught his hand and ducked behind him, using her momentum and her knees to push him face-first against the wall next to the door. "Don't— _ever_ —touch me like that again."

His large body was surprisingly pliant under her hold. She was all but speaking to his shoulder blade.

He stayed down all of two seconds. Then, in a movement too fast to be comprehended, he pulled on the hand she'd used to trap his arm behind his back, yanking her forward as though they were dancing. Now her arm was crossed over her chest and her wrist pinned to the wall with his arm circling the top of her head. He angled his hip against her stomach, and she felt the pull in her other arm as it was helplessly angled behind her back.

"That's good," he said in that impossibly low voice—purred, really. "But not good enough."

She bucked once, twice under him before he twisted his body and forced himself between her thighs, bringing her to a sullen surrender.

As soon as she stopped struggling, he let her hands go and stepped back to evaluate her.

She was furious with herself, or maybe it was with him. He'd ruined what had promised to be a pleasant Sunday, choked her, fucking felt her up, and then manhandled her. Who the hell did he think he was?

"Get _out,"_ she said, hands forming claws at her side. "Before I call the police."

It didn't come out as the impressive threat she wished to make. He seemed unmoved as he adjusted his lapels, never taking his eyes off her.

"You're wasted on my nephew," he said. There was something in the way his eyelids drifted down as he perused her at his leisure that was insultingly intimate.

She clamped down her lips and pointed at the door, waiting for him to leave.

He cocked his head at her, his tongue sweeping to one side and bulging his cheek as he seemed to work something out in his mind. In one of those quicksilver actions that seemed impossible for a man so large, he stepped forward again. As though it were a sleight of hand, he suddenly held up a card between his fingers as casually as another man would hold a cigarette between his forefinger and third finger.

"Call me," he said.

She turned an expression of complete and utter disbelief and repulsion on him. As _if_ she would even touch that card!

He seemed unperturbed by her reaction to his casual offer. "I'll make it worth your while."

She didn't bother to signify that with a response, only stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, staring off into space to wait for him to leave. 

As he brushed past her, he paused, his lips curling into a smile. Then he slid his card under her neckline, slightly tugging down her tee and mapping a route from her clavicle to her breastbone where he left the small paper rectangle tucked between her breasts and her shirt.

She was so shocked at his nerve she couldn’t even move.

He did _not_ just do what she thought he did.

"Think about it," he said and then was gone before she could recover to shout.

* * *

Needless to say, she ripped up his card and then set it on fire with the kitchen stove.

No _wonder_ Sasuke hated his uncle. What fucking manner of man did the things he did to a strange woman he'd never met before?

And what the _hell_ was that proposition? Did he mean to give her a job? 

Sakura felt two twinges as she considered that Madara Uchiha _was_ the head of a large conglomerate. Perhaps this was his way of conducting interviews, sort of like a trial by fire just to see how she'd react under pressure.

Or maybe...no.

Sakura held her head between her hands and uttered a muffled screech. No, what was she even _thinking?_ Sexual harassment as a hiring elimination procedure? She wanted no part of that.

And honestly there had been the part where he'd checked her out in that unbelievably forward way—if you could describe what he did as _checking you out._ Somehow that phrase just didn't seem to fit Madara Uchiha. If anything, he gave the impression of someone checking a horse's teeth before he purchased it. Madara Uchiha didn't do anything as juvenile as checking anyone out.

She wanted to scrub the memory of that out of her head. It was both humiliating and degrading. She'd wanted to teach him a lesson for daring to hold her in that casual chokehold, but instead he'd flipped the tables on her and managed to break free of her judo move and pin her against the wall. She should never have quit judo.

He'd _pressed_ himself against her to hold her down, and she'd felt him between her legs, against her stomach, large and heavy.

She shuddered again. Ugh.

That was something she would need therapy to get over.

Luckily she'd never have to see him again.

* * *

Sasuke wasn't in class the next day, nor the day after.

Sakura spotted one of her classmates and slung her backpack hurriedly over one shoulder, jogging to catch up with Suigetsu. She was just in time, and she caught him before he got on his skateboard, pulling at his sleeve to stop him. "Hey, where's Sasuke?"

Suigetsu jerked to a stop, the skateboard tilting up at an angle to the pavement. "Sasuke?" 

Sakura rolled her eyes at the dumbfounded look on his face as he scratched his head in thought. "You're _roommates."_

"Well, it's not like I'm his keeper," Suigetsu said. "Think I last saw him Saturday? We were all there at the bar." He scratched the side of his head and shrugged, as though he couldn't be bothered to give it more than his usual inattention.

Sakura shook her head in irritation. "Useless." 

She huffed and walked off, hitching the straps of her backpack higher on her shoulders, ignoring Suigetsu's shouted retort floating back at her. "Hey, you go find him if you're so worried!"

_Was_ there a reason to be worried? 

Sakura chewed on the inside of her mouth as she crossed the campus to reach her bicycle where it was locked at the bike racks. His uncle wouldn't _torture_ him. She was almost positive about that.

Surely he wouldn't.

It wasn't as though Sakura knew anything about Madara Uchiha, really. They were family. One of Sasuke’s biggest complaints was what was expected in his family. He was fine. 

* * *

When Sasuke didn't come to class for an entire week, Sakura finally decided to take matters into her own hands. Even if Sasuke had suddenly been withdrawn from school, she wanted to know. Sasuke wasn’t picking up his cell phone, and he hadn’t returned to the apartment he rented with Suigetsu.

God, she hated that stupid uncle of his. She’d finally had a chance with Sasuke, and he was ruining it by doing something to his nephew. 

She didn’t need that business card after all. A quick search online showed exactly where the company was. Sakura snorted to herself as she scrolled with Google maps and identified the tall, immense office building downtown. She wouldn’t even need to speak to that horrible uncle of his. She’d merely go in and ask around. She could be plenty sneaky when she had to be.

It was a forty minute ride on the Metro. No one even glanced at her when she walked through the automated glass doors of the building and went to peruse the row of elevators that stood in the middle of the high-ceilinged lobby, completely framed and encased in glass. They almost looked like rides at the fairground. 

Unfortunately once she stepped in one of the elevators, she realized she had no idea which floor she should go, and the elevators all needed a keycard.

Back to the reception she went. Only at the front desk did she consider that she had been much too optimistic. Sakura was all too conscious of her pink hair as she stood in front of the three receptionists—did they really need three?—who were all dressed in sleek business suits, with their glossy dark hair pulled into neat chignons, their makeup clean and natural and matte.

In comparison, she was sure she looked every inch the Gen Z off the street—graphic cropped tee paired with frayed jean shorts and high-top Converse sneakers, with the right toe marked with a smiley face when she’d been bored in class one day. Half of her pink hair was pulled up into a high bun on top of her head, and she had her backpack on as usual. 

The middle receptionist was the only one not answering questions in person or on the phone, so Sakura stuck out her chest and strode up to her. She wore a thin polished badge that said her name was Karin, and she looked up in curiosity when Sakura approached.

“Hi,” Sakura said, feeling more out of place than ever. Off to a great start, she was. “Uh, my classmate Sasuke Uchiha hasn’t been in class for a week, and the professor wanted me to leave some notes for him?”

Karin didn’t even blink. “Name?”

“Sakura Haruno,” Sakura said.

“You can just leave your notes with us, and I’ll see that he gets it,” Karin said with a small, professional smile.

“Uh, well, the professor also wanted me to explain some of the upcoming dates with him—school projects and stuff.” Sakura was making this stuff up on the spot, and Karin’s polite, expressionless face was making her think the on-the-spot lies were not cutting it.

Karin held up a finger as the phone next to her flashed with a red light, and she picked it up to speak into the receiver in a small hushed voice. “Yes. Yes, sir. Understood.”

Sakura tapped her index fingers on the counter, gazing around the large expanse of the lobby. In this extremely crowded and populated part of town, this building not only took up a great majority of the block, but also this lobby was ten stories high—prime real estate completely wasted for the sake of aesthetics. 

She expected that when the receptionist got off the phone, she’d be asked to hand over her notes. She’d just walk out or something; thinking of something else she could do.

To her surprise, Karin smiled at her and stood. “I’ll let you up to see him now.”

Sakura’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought it’d be _this_ easy to find Sasuke. She hadn’t even considered that he’d actually be here, in this building right now. At best, she thought she’d get his home phone number and call him to ask how he was doing.

“Oh,” was her brilliant response as a result. “Uh, that’s great. Thanks? I mean, thanks a lot.”

She waited while Karin opened up a drawer to take out a slim white keycard attached to a key. She stood and circled around the reception desk, gesturing for Sakura to follow. Karin might have been wearing high heels, but she moved as elegantly and quickly as though she were on wheels. Sakura ran to catch up with her. 

There were two rows of elevators, with five facing the grand expanse of the extravagant high-ceilinged lobby, and five others facing the rear of the building. Karin swiped the keycard at the keypad on the side wall and waited with her hands clasped in front of her, watching the numbers above the elevators change. Sakura moved to tap on the elevator button when one of them opened up, but Karin shook her head and gestured to the elevator on the left. “Only this one goes to the top floors.” 

“Ah. Right.”

That elevator jumped from floors forty to the first floor in less than a minute. There was a soft chime when the doors opened up. “This way,” Karin said, holding the doors open with a hand.

Sakura leaped inside, feeling all the more like an interloper next to this businesslike, fashionable woman. She watched as Karin swiped the keycard across another keypad and pushed a gold square button that bore the number sixty. It was the top button. Only the numbers forty and above had buttons in this elevator.

Sakura had never ridden an express elevator before. Sort of a novelty.

The elevator, as seen from below, rose smoothly through the expanse of the lobby and soared through the floors at speed and without stopping. Sakura watched as the city skyline came into view and as the people on the street below became smaller and smaller. Wow. She’d never considered that Sasuke came from this kind of family. He was sort of quiet. Low-key. Unlike their other classmate Naruto, who’d tell everyone if his father was rich and owned a huge company.

Another soft chime, and the elevators drew to an effortless stop. She could barely feel that they’d risen so far up in the air. The doors slid open, and Karin again held them open for her, making an open-handed gesture for Sakura to exit.

“Just down the hall and through those double doors,” Karin said with another smile. “Have a pleasant day.”

“Thanks. You too!” Sakura came out of the elevator with a small skip. This wasn’t a bad place to work, she didn’t think, if they employed such polite, efficient people such as the receptionist. Sakura definitely hadn’t felt belittled for her appearance. 

Maybe, she considered, Sasuke’s uncle wasn’t completely useless at his job if he managed such a sleek, well-maintained office building among numerous others.

She hooked her thumbs under her backpack straps as she strolled down the hall. It was so quiet up here that it hummed. The carpet underneath her feet was plush, and the walls were lined with framed paintings, like she was in a fancy apartment building. She almost whistled along the way in victory. 

Maybe Sasuke was upset or embarrassed at being called back home the way he had, but she could reassure him that her opinion of him hadn’t changed in the least. Her parents were no longer living, it was true, but she still understood the importance of family and duty. 

At the end of the hallway, Sakura stopped in front of the paneled double doors, taking in the richness of the wood and polished carved handles. They were easily twice her height, and she could easily have rolled in through just _one_ of them. She lifted her hand to knock and hesitated. 

The receptionist hadn’t told her to knock. What if she knocked and went in and found that it was a large office floor plan with hundreds of little cubicles, and that her knocking just called attention to the out-of-place college student who didn’t know to just walk through?

Sakura took a deep breath and pushed open the door.


	2. found you when your heart was broke

Sakura entered into a wide, expansive room that was just as extravagant as the lobby downstairs, but cozier—with dark wood and another plush carpet under her feet, except in a muted grey this time. The heavy wooden door closed behind her with a loud click as the automatic lock engaged.

She blinked at the room before her, arranged more like a hotel lobby, with large, low sofas and coffee tables, and the entire wall of windows with the drapes open so that you felt as though you were about to fall out to your death if you approached.

It was completely empty.

Sakura debated shouting for Sasuke, or alternatively, “Surprise!” but she tip-toed across the room to look down at the street below. Yep. Like ants. 

She shuddered and took a step backwards before turning around.

And found someone in the room with her.

Only it was not Sasuke Uchiha. 

It was Madara Uchiha. 

Of course it was.

Sakura should have expected it. Really she should have. But the appearance of  _ this man _ that Sakura had vowed to completely and utterly forget by singeing every last memory of him from her brain threw her for such a loop that she pressed a hand to her chest in shock. She might have taken a few steps backwards towards the row of precarious windows before jumping forward again and looking back at the glass in alarm.

“The windows are reinforced,” Madara said. “Dual-layered for maximum earthquake protection.”

She had completely forgotten how low his voice could be, the timber of which could make her chest vibrate.

His hands were held behind his back, and he had shed his suit jacket to reveal a white shirt and tie, with his sleeves unbuttoned and rolled halfway up his forearms. She’d built in her mind an image of a leonine man, but he wasn’t quite as burly as she’d remembered—shorn of his overcoat and jacket, his shoulders were still massive in size but his midsection was lean and trim. 

He was still impossibly tall; his presence a threat to her peace of mind.

“Wh—where’s Sasuke?” 

Sakura was embarrassed to find that she’d  _ stuttered. _ God. Yes, she was a little  _ intimidated _ by this man, but she didn’t want him to know that.

He prowled forward. “They could easily support us if I were to ravish you against them.”

“Wh...what?” 

Her ears must have misheard; he couldn’t have said what she thought he said. And the way he looked at her, as though he were predator and she was prey, completely unsettled her. She started to edge sideways against the windows, maintaining the same distance from him.

“Look,” she said, holding up her hands . “I’m just here to give Sasuke his notes. He missed an entire week of class and—” The lie that had been so readily delivered downstairs now stuck in her throat. “And, ah, I just wanted to see what was going on with him.”

He was within a few feet now, and Sakura rounded an armchair to keep him at a distance. His head was cocked to one side as he advanced. “Did you just say what I thought you did? That you would—ravish me? Isn't that sexual harassment or something?”

Then, instead of coming even closer to her as she thought he would, he sat down at one of the armchairs across from where she was cowering. He crossed one knee over the other as he gazed at her, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s not sexual harassment because we don’t have a working relationship. Something to drink?”

“What?”

As if on cue, someone appeared from one of the side doors, pushing a small cart across the distance, the contents rattling as it came closer. At a glance, cups and drinks were loaded on the two trays. The woman was dressed in the same ubiquitous form-fitting dress-suit as Karin downstairs.

“Juice, tea, or soda?” the woman asked Sakura.

“She’ll have juice,” Madara said.

Sakura glared at him, then came around to sit on the armchair across from him. “Tea, thank you.”

It wasn’t until he looked across at her with amusement glinting in his dark eyes that she realized she’d fallen into his trap and done exactly what he wanted her to do: sit down and have a drink.

She fumed, but his assistant or whatever she was was still there, efficiently bringing over two cups of tea on their saucers. Steam billowed from the top of the cup, and Sakura grimaced slightly. He was right; she  _ would _ have preferred juice. Tea was fine in a plastic to-go cup with milk and sugar and boba inside, but this was  _ not  _ to her taste.

When the woman—Sakura hadn’t seen her nametag—left, she continued to awkwardly perch on the edge of her chair, unable to sit back in her chair because of the backpack she hadn’t taken off.

Madara, arms imposingly spread on the back of the armchair on either side of him, watched her with a small smile slurking on his lips that he tried to hide with a stroke of a finger over his top lip. 

Sakura regained her equilibrium. She was here for Sasuke, wasn’t she? She could still do that. She could just tell Madara that he was ruining Sasuke’s education by pulling him out of school the way he had, and all that other stuff. 

“Sasuke hasn’t been in class for a week. He’s missed out on a lot of important assignments—”

“Such as?”

Sakura really didn’t appreciate being cut off like that. She frowned heavily at the man across from her. “The paper on macroeconomics, for one, and midterms are coming up so he needs to get on that, and—”

“When I was his age, I was already running this company,” Madara said thoughtfully. Finally those penetrating eyes were off her as he gestured loosely at the room around them. “My father was in an accident and a coma for eight months. In those eight months, I learned more about real life than in the colleges that people go on about now.”

She closed her jaw with effort. “Well, Sasuke isn’t...I mean, you  _ want _ him to run this place? Don’t you want your own children to do it—don’t you have a wife?” Her voice rose disbelievingly on the last question as she tried to regain control of the conversation.

If anything, he looked even more pleased at her question. “No,” he purred. “I don’t have a  _ wife.  _ No one to own me or be my keeper.”

A snort almost escaped her. As though this—this wild beast of a man with the trappings of civilization in a suit could ever be kept by a mere woman.  _ Any _ woman. He'd probably choose one of the replaceable clones he kept around this place—sleek, smiling, ever subservient.

In any event, that had amused her enough so that she wasn’t scared—much—of him anymore. She straightened up her shoulders and pushed the teacup further into the table so that she wouldn’t spill it with her inadvertent movements. “Look.” She gave him an imploring look. “Sasuke has friends—he has a  _ life _ at college. What’s the harm in letting him finish? It’s—it’s kind of like sowing one’s wild oats, right? Afterwards he can—he can do right by the family.” 

Or whatever. Sakura was only trying to be as persuasive as she could be. From what Sasuke had said, he resented his family as much as he felt bound by duty. An orphan like her, he was heir to a lot more responsibilities than she’d ever be, and unlike her, he seethed silently about it. 

Personally, Sakura could understand the importance of duty and family. Without her parents, she should have gotten a job and started making her way in the world, but instead she was abiding by their last wishes, using the money they’d set aside for her so that she could get a degree like they wanted. It was just that she wasn’t great at school; she always had to put forth effort, not like how Sasuke seemed to be a natural at every subject. 

That was it, really. That was why it was a shame it wasn’t Sasuke going to school, and Sakura learning the ropes of some career.

She shrugged to herself. It wasn’t up to her to try to argue sense into Sasuke. She was his friend, and she  _ got _ him. She certainly wasn’t going to take the side of his uncle over him.

The smile had slid off Madara’s face, and he was now just staring at her in speculation. At least she’d got his attention. Sakura leaned forward and spoke earnestly. “I mean, that’s terrible what happened to you. I’ve—well, I’ve been there. And Sasuke’s lucky to still have you. Don’t you—well, don’t you wish that he had it slightly easier than you did? That he had someone to support him so that he doesn’t have to  _ be _ like you?”

His eyes didn’t move from her face as he spoke. “Yes,” he said. Not the purr of indolence, but a growl filled with intensity, as though she had voiced some secret desire within him that he hadn’t even realized until now that he wanted. 

That simple reply caught her off guard. She hadn’t expected him to agree with her. “Oh,” she said dumbly. “Well then.” 

Shouldn’t that be simple enough then? Then  _ let _ Sasuke go back, or at least give him back his cell phone! 

Before she could open her mouth to tell him that, Madara stood, a lithe, smooth movement drawing him into his full stature. He was so tall. Taller than Sasuke, who wasn’t short by any means. It must run in the family.

“Tell him yourself,” Madara said, dark eyes glinting down at her. The smile had returned to his face, the amusement once again unabated as though it’d never left. She must’ve imagined that other look in his eyes just a moment ago.

Madara left the same way he came, ostensibly through one of the side doors that were just as far away and grand as the double doors that had let her in. Sakura gaped at his back for an entire minute after the door closed behind him. Then she recovered and screeched to herself. “Well, how the  _ hell _ am I supposed to do that, you bastard? You’ve taken—”

The door opened again, and there was Sasuke, head hanging down and a frown on his otherwise impassive face as usual. He wore a black suit like the one Madara must have worn, except his jacket was still on, and his tie was slightly askew, as though he’d been pulling on it. 

It emphasized how tall and skinny he was, especially next to the breadth of physique of his uncle, but there he was, familiar, unhurt, and oh so dear. 

She exhaled sharply and ran forward. “Sasuke! I can’t believe you’re actually here! I thought for sure they’d have you somewhere in the country or something. You didn’t pick up your phone, and nobody knew where you were. I was—” Somehow it felt too awkward, _revealing,_ to admit to being worried about him. “Suigetsu was worried about you,” she said instead, nodding briskly like she hadn’t just told the biggest lie of the century. Suigetsu was never worried about anything. Not even himself, actually, even in situations when he should be. “We all were. Naruto, especially.” There, that was more realistic.

“Well, I’m fine,” Sasuke said, his tone brusque and slightly impatient. “So you needn’t all descend on me like this, if that’s what’s planned.”

To say she was taken aback by his coldness was an understatement. It felt as though he’d punched her in the stomach. What was wrong with him? The last time she’d talked to him, he’d been sweet and vulnerable and—

Sakura rocked back on her heels. The reason for that was suddenly clear to her.

He’d been a completely different person because he’d been drunk out of his mind. And she’d been an idiot, because she’d carried that impression of him until now, thinking, hoping, that he’d come to regard her as something more than a friend.

The thing was—she knew she was being an idiot. She couldn’t even explain why she liked him. It was just this dark silence about him when he was mostly this upright and noble person. He was a mystery, and she wanted to unpeel his layers, one by one, and make him  _ look _ at her.

He wasn’t even looking at her now. He’d flipped up his jacket sleeve and was looking at his watch with a frown. “I’m not going back to college, Sakura. My uncle spoke to me, and I’ve decided to do my duty here. I’m going to start learning the ropes. It’s about time, after all.”

“But—your uncle  _ told  _ me to talk to you. He, he promised that…” She bit off the rest of her words. Madara hadn’t actually promised her anything. She’d just assumed. As usual.

Sasuke scowled and finally looked up. “I know what he would have said to you. I told him I got it. I’ll start doing my duty here. He doesn’t need to enlist  _ you _ to do his dirty job.”

“Wait, wait.” Sakura felt as though several lines had gotten irreversibly crossed. “I’m  _ not _ doing Madara’s dirty work. Weren’t you saying how  _ he _ was the one who was forcing you to do all this? He just told me that I could talk to you, and convince you…”

“He already tried to convince me to go back to college,” Sasuke said. His teeth appeared to be gritted with impatience, and he was speaking slowly, as he often did with Naruto when he was irritated with him. “And I’ve told him that I need to learn this stuff  _ now. _ So will you just go? Tell Suigetsu I’ll send for my things...and mail him a check for my share of the bills and rent...until he finds another roommate.”

It was only starting to slowly fall into place for Sakura. “So your  _ uncle _ wanted you to go back to college, and you didn’t?”

How had she misunderstood something so basic? This was the entire reason for her antagonism with Madara!

“Yeah,” Sasuke said, drawing out the word as though it should have been clear. “That’s what I told you guys at the bar.”

_ You guys. _ Not  _ you, Sakura. _ Did Sasuke even remember she’d been there too? That she was the one who’d taken him home? That she’d been the one in his arms on his motorcycle?

No, apparently not. 

It was stupid to feel so—so absurdly hurt, but that was exactly what was flooding her chest and making her unable to breathe or talk. All this time, she’d thought she was drawing closer to him, that he was finally opening up to her, that he finally  _ saw _ her as someone other than  _ that girl that was always with his dumb roommate. _ Instead, they’d had a massive misunderstanding, and she didn’t even  _ know _ he’d been planning on dropping out, that he wasn’t railing against family and duty, but just ranting out loud about—well, dammit, she didn’t even know  _ what _ he’d been ranting about now, because they’d been just talking two parallel monologues disguised as a dialogue!

“Anyway,” Sasuke muttered under his breath. He wasn’t looking at her anymore but at his feet, clearly embarrassed at her knowing so much about him. Not knowing the  _ oodles _ of information that she actually did have on him, courtesy of her pumping Naruto for it. Not that it mattered now, considering how he apparently thought of her as less than one of the guys.

“Tell Naruto thanks for me,” Sasuke mumbled. “That—that he’s not as big an idiot as I originally thought he was.”

His voice was steadily decreasing in volume until he was practically speaking to his chest and Sakura had to strain to hear him. Then, telling the floor something like “see you” but clearly not meaning it, he turned and pushed open the side door, and let it shut behind him with a click. 

Sakura was left staring after him, her mouth hung open in his wake. The flush that crept up her neck overtook her in stages. By the time she’d recovered, her cheeks were red, and she aimed a kick at the door Sasuke had just disappeared through. 

“Idiot!” she snarled, but she wasn’t sure whether she was talking about Sasuke or herself. 

_ How _ had she so misinterpreted  _ everything? _ They’d all called Naruto an idiot for the way he smiled and joked through life, but wasn’t she the real idiot here? 

How had she spent that entire, giddy evening with Sasuke and thought he’d been complaining about his overbearing uncle for making him drop out of college, when it’d been  _ the entire opposite scenario? _

“ARGH,” she screeched, but it was more of a gargle of frustration at her own blindness, at her own impetuousness. For sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. Again.

She would have kicked the armchair she passed were it not for the slight sound behind her just then.

Sasuke.

A flash of hope rose in her chest, and her head whipped around so fast she might have given herself another whiplash. She perked up only to wilt again when she saw  _ Madara, _ that stupid man standing at yet another doorway of this unnecessarily large room with too many doors disguised as part of the paneled walls.

He was holding a drink in his hand, a glass tumbler with ice cubes that had clinked and drawn her attention, leaning against the side of the doorway with a leg leisurely crossed over the other as though he’d been there for a while. He took a lazy sip and saluted her with the glass. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “I rather liked your little speech.”

Her cheeks burned with humiliation. Was he actually drawing attention to her stupidity? “Oh, go to hell!”

She stomped all the way over to the doors through which she’d initially come with such high hopes and scrabbled at the handles, pulling it hard and thinking it was because they were heavy that they didn’t open. It was only after a few seconds—seconds in which she just knew Madara was standing there watching her with that constant amusement in his eyes—that she noticed the silver square button to the side of the doors. She pushed it, and the doors clicked. That hadn’t been necessary when she came in.

Stupid heavy doors that needed pulling when she was in the mood for pushing. A hand clasped over the long vertical handle above her head and effortlessly opened the door for her.

She hated herself even more for muttering, “Thank you,” because that was what she’d been taught to do if anyone opened the door for her. Then she was marching through the long hallway towards the elevator.

She was mumbling to herself under her breath the entire time. It was only when the elevator opened that she realized she needed a keycard to ride it down to the lobby. She stared at the back wall of the elevator, which was actually a huge window showcasing the city skyline, and backed out of the tiny space.

And bumped into something. 

Sakura’s eyes closed momentarily as she considered that she’d never have to see  _ him _ again if Sasuke dropped out of college.

Madara’s hands closed on either side of her hips as he held her in place in front of him, and she froze as she felt the broad expanse of his chest against her back, her head, heat emanating from him and that heady, dark cologne enveloping her. 

Then she elbowed him back and moved into the elevator.

He chuckled as if she’d amused him. “I have to let you out of here, don’t I, sweetheart?”

“Don’t call me that.”

A card flourished between his fingers in the same way she’d seen him do before, and he moved it to the keypad before stopping just short of swiping it across. “Forget about him, Sakura.” There was no need to clarify which  _ him _ he meant. 

He took up the entire entrance of the elevator, so that she had nowhere to go. She hadn’t liked standing close to the windows, and there simply wasn’t enough room to push past him and leave the cubicle. Instead she firmed her lips and stared up at him.

“Your parents are gone, right?” he said, still not swiping the card. The doors closed behind him, and they were enclosed in the still hum of the unmoving elevator. Amidst the scent of tinned air freshener, she caught another tendril of fragrance—smoke and cedar. An odd combination that made her think of forests and mountains.

Her eyes flashed from where the keycard was held in those thick fingers to his face, which was hard with granite and held lines that she now understood originated from him coming into all this from an early age. “How do you know that?”

“I was curious.” As though that answered everything.

“Don’t worry,” she said, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. “Since you were eavesdropping, I’m sure you heard that Sasuke wants nothing to do with the rest of us anymore. You can safely groom him to be your little clone.”

Little was a ridiculous word to use anywhere near this man, and she was sure he knew, but he didn’t comment. The light of amusement in his eyes deepened. “Oh, I was glad to hear it, and you shouldn’t be purposefully naive.” 

The large hand that had been braced against the doorway of the elevator lifted. The veins and muscle on his forearms rippled, showing that he’d once, or still was, a man of action rather than confined behind a desk. Gently he reached out and curled one long finger around her hair, winding the ends in his hand.

She’d been so involved at looking over his shoulder that she hadn’t anticipated this, or the look on his face as he stroked her hair—like someone making a concerted effort to be gentle, to not scare off a wild animal. 

“Are you—are you fondling my hair?” She was incredulous.

“Fondle? No.” He let her hair go, strand by strand falling out of his grip. “If I fondle you, you’d know.”

Sakura rolled her eyes and leaned forward to push his hand holding the keycard to the keypad. It beeped, and she slammed the button for the ground floor with the heel of her fist. “Gross. You know you’re like, old, right?”

He ignored her. “You look like the first time I saw sakura in China. I was in Wuxi and so homesick I felt like death. Until I walked right into their cherry blossom festival and felt I was home again.”

She couldn’t help but stare at him. It was hard to equate this self-sufficient, completely arrogant man with what he was sharing.

The edges of his lips indented, but it wasn’t exactly a smile. He cocked his head at her. “Do you know how predators who aren’t hungry behave? They let their prey run over them. Once. Twice. And then the urge returns.” He hadn’t moved a muscle, but he seemed to loom over her. “You look exactly like cotton candy. I could lick you all over.”

She gaped at him, jolted from his story of homesickness with this last addition. The death-defying floor-length window behind her forgotten, she edged backwards, hands gripping the straps of her backpack as she stared in bemusement. “What did you—you can’t say something like that to people you don’t even know!”

He laughed again, a low, rich sound that reminded her of dark chocolate. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll get to know each other.”

The elevator chimed, and the doors slowly swept apart. She leaped into the opening, ducking under his arm in an undignified scramble to get out. 

She couldn’t resist standing outside for a moment, suppressing the urge to childishly stick out her tongue at him. Her desire to get in the last word was too strong. “No thanks. I don’t think so. Goodbye now!” 

She even waggled her fingers condescendingly at him as she turned to go.

“Next time, Sakura,” his voice followed her, deep and carrying. “This cat and mouse game is at an end. Next time you don’t get a head start. You’ll need my help, and it’ll cost you.”

Sakura didn’t care how foolish she looked. She broke into a jog to get away from that voice, those words, this person. 

Her heart was thudding in her chest, and she could still feel the heat of his body behind her, the way his huge hands had closed in on her hips, tightening for a microsecond as though he wanted to do something more barbaric, like throw her against the wall and tear off her clothes. 

She couldn’t get the echo of his last words to her out of her mind.  _ Next time it’ll cost you. _

It sounded like a warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nolessthanthetreesandstars did a standup job going through this applause everyone

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to @nolessthanthestarsandtrees for being my naruto primer and her super fast beta you're the best


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